


Warmth

by charincharge



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Illyrian Camps, Mating Bond, Post-ACOFAS, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:53:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25922389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charincharge/pseuds/charincharge
Summary: Nesta hated the mountains. She hated the cold winds that burnt her cheeks while she trained. She hated the way the altitude made the air thin in her lungs, making it impossibly harder to breathe. It made her feel like she was always on the verge of drowning, putting her perpetually on edge.She hated that she was being shadowed by an overprotective fae male, constantly under his winged surveillance. Even when she couldn’t see him, she could always feel him. Creeping in the corners of her consciousness, tugging on that thing between them. She hated that thing most of all.
Relationships: Nesta Archeron & Cassian
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

Nesta hated the mountains. She hated the cold winds that burnt her cheeks while she trained. She hated the way the altitude made the air thin in her lungs, making it impossibly harder to breathe. It made her feel like she was always on the verge of drowning, putting her perpetually on edge.

She hated the thick fatty meats stockpiled in her kitchen; apparently the mountains couldn’t grow vegetables. She longed for a salad. But instead, she forced herself to eat the too rich meat broth, unable to chew through animal flesh without gagging on it.

She hated that she was being shadowed by an overprotective fae male, constantly under his winged surveillance. Even when she couldn’t see him, she could always _feel_ him. Creeping in the corners of her consciousness, tugging on that thing between them. She hated that thing most of all.

But there was one thing that wasn’t too terrible. Since arriving in Illyria with Cassian nearly four months ago, she’d made a friend. Emerie ran a small outdoor post on the outskirts of the camps, and it turned out she was just as unpopular as Nesta was – a woman attempting to infringe upon a man’s realm. Nesta thought it was brave that Emerie was able to maintain her father’s shop, despite the camps’ disdain for a female owner.

Nesta wrapped her scarf around her face tighter, attempting to block out the howling winter winds, as she made her weekly walk into town for tea with her only friend. Her worn in boots trudged across the frost laden path as the sky darkened with the threat of an incoming storm. She could feel wetness seep in through the cracks in the old leather, and she walked faster.

Heat prickled against Nesta’s thawing skin as she entered the store. She shed her jacket and scarf, hanging it on the tall coat rack by the door. A fire blazed in the corner of the room, and Nesta hurried toward it to splay her cold hands over it, letting the warmth of the flames lick her frozen fingers.

She heard a tea kettle ringing in the back room and made her way across the floor to assist Emerie with her preparations. Nesta pushed the heavy wooden door, and it creaked loudly. She was startled to see that Emerie was not boiling water alone. Cassian stood beside her at the stove, a relaxed smile across his face. His normally pulled back hair was loose around his reddened cheeks, brushing against the tops of his shoulders. His casual stance was so unfamiliar to Nesta she had to bite her tongue to stop from gasping. He was so tense around her – shoulders taut and corded muscles ready to strike out and attack. And watching him tip his head back and laugh at something Emerie had said, Nesta realized she’d never seen him relaxed.

An icy ripple curled around Nesta’s neck, cold fury choking her at the domestic scene before her. The doorknob beneath her hand grew frigid beneath her touch, turning brittle, and splintered to the ground with a loud _thunk_. She pulled her hand away quickly, the icy feeling disappearing as quickly as it came on.

The pair whipped toward the door in surprise, and she noted Cassian’s posture straighten uncomfortably as he caught sight of her. She gave him a tight smile, which he returned with a terse nod.

“I’ll fix that,” Nesta apologized, reaching down to grab the piece of metal from the floor. It burned her skin, and she dropped it again. This time, the knob shattered into shards and scattered across the old wooden floors.

Cassian’s hazel eyes narrowed and swept her body from head to toe. Nesta’s heart pounded, unsure of what was happening. She hated being out of control. Not knowing what her body could do.

Emerie removed the still shrieking kettle from the burner and grabbed her broom, dusting the pieces of metal into a small pile in the corner of the room, while Nesta looked on, frozen in shock.

“Nes?” She hadn’t even noticed Cassian had crossed the room to where she stood, suddenly only inches away from her. Infringing upon her space. Her routine. Her ritual. He didn’t belong here.

“What are you doing here?” Nesta hissed, her pulse thrumming wildly as she stared Cassian down.

He picked up a box from the table behind him and held it out to her. “Thought I’d pick up some new boots for you.” He looked down at her holey boots, which had seen much better days. Nesta crossed her foot behind her ankle, trying to hide it from his view.

“I don’t need your charity,” she said, crossing her arms and refusing to take the box from his hands.

Emerie, sensing an incoming argument between her friend and the Commander, smartly poured two mugs of tea and extracted herself from the small back room, heading back out to the store. 

Cassian sighed and ran his hand through his hair, pushing the strands out of his face. “This isn’t charity, sweetheart,” he explained to her, his voice dripping with condescension. “Winter’s just starting, and I need my soldiers with all their toes.”

“Fine,” Nesta acquiesced, taking the box. “You can leave now.”

“Don’t you think we should talk about—” Cassian motioned to the hole in the door, and Nesta practically growled at him.

“No.” She was resolute.

“You’ve only lost control like that before when you’re angry at me,” Cassian said, his voice lowered, unsure of how much Emerie knew about Nesta’s abilities. He lifted his arm and boxed Nesta against the door, trapping her. “If something else is triggering it, I need to know.”

“I’m always angry,” Nesta seethed. His face was much too close to hers now. She could see the shades of green and gold flecked in his hazel eyes, drawing her in. She looked away, under his arm, straight at the stove where he was standing when she walked in.

“Tell me,” he pushed.

Nesta pressed her hand against his chest, trying to get some air. “You. It’s always _you_.”

Cassian narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Not sure how I’m to blame for making you angry this time, sweetheart. I was just standing over there, minding my own business, helping Emerie make tea…”

Nesta’s fingers tensed against his leathers, curling against the ring of his harness. And she watched in horror as Cassian’s lips curled into a devious smile. He looked over his shoulder and then back at Nesta, who was still rigid below him.

“Were you…” He paused, cocking his head to the side slightly for emphasis. “Jealous?”

Nesta rolled her eyes and pushed against his chest again, but he remained solid, immoveable. “Of course not,” she snipped. “That’s ridiculous.”

Cassian snorted, leaning closer to her. She gulped, hating the tug she felt deep in her stomach, telling her to let him in, to embrace him, to show herself to him.

“No, ridiculous is burning off a doorknob with your ice cube hands,” he snickered and lowered his other hand to her waist.

“Don’t touch me,” she gritted out between her teeth, but she made no motion to leave.

“Just admit you were jealous, and I’ll leave,” Cassian said, eyes alight with amusement.

Nesta’s stomach twisted as she looked up at him. He waited patiently for her reply.

“Fine,” Nesta began. “For some reason, I’m attracted to you.”

“For _some_ reason…?” Cassian stood up straight, shaking his head, no longer leaning over her, and Nesta took a large gulp of air. “Cauldron, Nesta, you’re infuriating. You know the reason.”

He took another step back and leaned against the table in the middle of the room. He crossed his arms, his body suddenly withdrawn, though his eyes burned with fire.

Nesta stepped away from the door and smoothed her thick sweater.

“Did you ever stop to think that if you accepted the bond, your powers wouldn’t be trying to spew out of you every time I got on your nerves?” he asked, agitated.

Nesta had, in fact, thought of that. It’s what irked her daily about their connection. That she knew it was connected to her powers. Connected to the Cauldron. To everything she hated.

“Why won’t you accept it?” The fire was dimmed in his eyes, dialed down to a low simmer as he stared her down. But she couldn’t give him the answer he wanted. 

“Thank you for the boots, Cassian,” she said, reaching around him for the box. He grabbed her arm, and she let him for a second. His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist, and she shuddered under his touch.

Emerie knocked softly at the door, wiping her hands on her apron. “Tea’s ready, Nesta,” she said, and Nesta silently thanked her friend with a small nod. “Will you be joining us, Cassian?”

Cassian pushed himself off the table and shook his head. “Thank you, but I have business to attend to.”

He pulled on his gloves, his siphons glimmering with the reflection of the flickering fire. He looked at Nesta again and his lips tightened as he took a deep breath. “Don’t stay too late. There’s a storm coming in tonight.”

He didn’t bother waiting for Nesta’s answer as he extended his wings and took off as soon as he exited the small store.

But as Nesta sipped her tea, she could feel him hovering nearby. After telling Emerie she would return again next week, she wrapped herself back in her thin coat and scarf and headed out into the wet winds. The outline of wings created a shadow on the ground, surrounding her the whole way home. Nesta never looked up once.


	2. Chapter 2

A cold wind stung Nesta’s face, rousing her from her deep slumber. Upon arriving home, she’d put away a bottle (or two) of wine, and passed out, but she’d thought she’d left the furnace on. The cold chill that ran up her spine led her to believe otherwise.

She wrapped her thin robe around her bare shoulders and went to turn up the heat, but upon opening her bedroom door was met with a blast of frost. She gasped, horrified at the scene in front of her. Her beautiful, perfect little cottage was destroyed. Somehow in the night, a tree had fallen onto her roof, collapsing part of it. A branch penetrated the window, leaving half her house open to the frigid winter air. Stupid mountains. Stupid storms.

Nesta shuddered and wondered how the hell she was going to get out of her house. As it was, it was destroyed with shards of glass and splinters and pine needles and dirt. She supposed she would have to be confined to her bedroom, which had somehow managed to escape damage, despite the state of the rest of the house. But all she wanted was her coffee. But, she was afraid to traverse the glass covered floors to attempt to make it to the kitchen.

Fuck it. She was confident she could make her way for one cup of her favorite caffeinated beverage. All the glass was by the far window. But upon taking one step onto the floor, she cried out in pain, as a stray shard sliced through the ball of her foot.

Blood dribbled onto the dark wooden floors as she hobbled back to her room. She hissed as she sat on her bed and raised her foot to rest over her good leg. Using the point of a needle, she was able to prod the tiny piece from her callused foot. Luckily, it wasn’t that deep of a cut and would heal quickly.

Before she had time to get dressed, she heard a loud bellow from her doorway. She felt his panic tug at her chest. She hated that she could feel how _worried_ he was about her. She shouldn’t matter this much to anyone.

“Nesta?” Cassian called out. “Nesta, are you hurt?”

Nesta sighed as she heard his boots crunching over glass, approaching her room. He swung the door open, his eyes wild with fear, scanning her body for injury. She wrapped her robe tighter around her shoulders. She didn’t want him to see her this exposed. Morning Nesta was private. Not meant for public consumption.

“I thought I smelled blood,” he admitted, his eyes narrowing as they swept over her form again, and Nesta sighed and held her foot out.

“Just a nick. I’m fine.”

His relief was palpable as the tension unfurled in his chest, and she watched his shoulders relax.

“I’m fine,” she said again, and he averted his eyes, training them on the floor in front of her. “I was just about to get ready for training.”

“The snow hasn’t settled enough to train,” Cassian replied stiffly.

A blanket of silence hovered over them. Cassian refused to move, and Nesta refused to give him the satisfaction of continuing their conversation. If training wasn’t going to happen today, then he could just leave her alone. He seemed to sense her inner monologue – something he did all too frequently, which drove her to insanity. She could never tell what he was thinking, despite being acutely aware of what he was _feeling_. His brain was a mystery to her.

“The storm has let up for a few hours, but it’s supposed to carry on through the week.” He paused. “Maybe Emerie would let you stay with her…”

“I’m not going to impose on her,” Nesta snapped, and Cassian rolled his eyes at her. Nesta pretended not to notice.

“Well, you can’t stay here, sweetheart. You’ll freeze to death.”

She began to say that maybe she’d be fine with that, when Cassian cut her off.

“You’ll stay with me. You’re not imposing. And you’ll have your own room.” He looked around her sparsely decorated room. “Gather what you need for the night.”

Nesta knew better than to fight with him on this particular topic. The matter of her safety. He didn’t quite care about her comfort, but she knew the stubborn ass would come back in the middle of the storm to grab her things if she didn’t do it herself.

“Turn around,” she barked, venom thick on her tongue. She didn’t want him perusing her room as she clothed herself. She dropped the thin robe to the ground and pulled on a warm sweater and leggings and socks. She dug around in her drawers and stuffed a few things into a small bag.

A small smile curled on his lips as she shoved her feet into the new boots he’d gotten her. She refused to acknowledge it. Though she was grateful for them. Especially with the amount of snow that had accumulated overnight.

Without a word, he held out his hands for her to jump into, but Nesta ignored them.

“I can walk myself, you brute,” she snipped, and she pretended not to hear his exasperated sigh.

As Nesta’s boots crunched over a pile of broken glass, Cassian lifted her up from behind, scooping up her legs and cradling her against his chest.

“Put me down, asshole!” she seethed, but it was fruitless. Cassian’s wings flared, and they took off into the sky. She buried her face against his leathers, eyes closed tightly, not wanting to look. She still loathed flying.

Nesta didn’t know how long they’d been in the air when they began their descent. But it felt like forever. Her legs were shaky as they finally hit the ground.

She stood and took in the cabin in front of her. She realized she’d never actually seen where Cassian lived in the mountains. She’d actively refused to be in his space, but it looked like she had no other choice right now.

He led her in slowly, as if he was frightened of scaring her off. She stepped forward surely and held in her gasp at the inside of the house. It was… beautiful. Everything was rustic and homey, but somehow completely put together. She was shocked at the layered plush rugs and comfortable couches in the main room, dotted with throw pillows and blankets. What grown man had throw pillows? The space felt nothing like Cassian. But then again, how much did she really know about the Commander?

“Mor helped decorate,” Cassian said as way of explanation, and Nesta hummed lightly, taking in the panels of rich wood and art covered walls. It was so different from her sparse cabin. This felt grand in comparison. She hated everything about it.

Upstairs, he showed her both guest rooms, offering her choice of either one.

“My room is across the hall,” he said, clearly uncomfortable. “And the bathroom is at the end of the hall.”

He paused as he let Nesta choose her room. She chose the one closest to the stairs – easier to escape.

“Make yourself comfortable. There’s food in the fridge if you get hungry.” He paused. “I’ll be back tonight.” He walked down the stairs at a rapid pace, seeming eager to get somewhere. But with their training canceled, Nesta had no idea where he was off to. Curiosity got the better of her.

“Where are you going?”

He quirked his eyebrow and pulled his long hair up into a bun. “Your house isn’t going to fix itself, sweetheart.”

Before she could protest, he was out the door, leaving her alone.

Nesta was used to being solitary, but there was something strange about being in Cassian’s space alone. Every place she looked felt like she was somehow snooping into his business. She didn’t want to know about his business.

Instead, she wandered into the kitchen and started boiling water for coffee. There was no risk of finding something personal in the kitchen. And thanks to his giant tub of coffee grounds, she’d be caffeinated soon enough. Which was good because her head was starting to throb.

As the coffee brewed, she opened the refrigerator. Hoping he had something she could cobble together for breakfast that wasn’t salted or stewed meats. She was impressed with how well-stocked the refrigerator was. She pulled open a drawer and gasped at the piles of vegetables. Carrots and turnips and beets and spinach and cucumbers.

She chopped the vegetables up quickly and mixed them in with some eggs she found. How the hell did Cassian have eggs? And vegetables?

With her steaming cup of coffee and vegetable omelet, she settled into the couch and pulled out a well-worn book.

When Cassian returned, she was still in the same spot on the couch, and nearly finished with her reading, her stomach starting to grumble with hunger again. She looked up as the door swung open. Snowflakes dotted the top of his head, and she watched as he shook them out like a dog. He smelled of sweat and dirt, so Nesta barely acknowledged him when he let her know he’d be going upstairs to bathe.

It took her a full minute to realize that she would be able to hear him. Undressing. And washing himself. Upstairs.

She tried to ignore the sounds of unclacing leathers and splashing water, attempting to focus on the book in front of her. But the scene was a passionate night between a lady in waiting and the king’s most trusted advisor – an illicit affair with lots of mentions of strong muscles and flowing hair and fancy dresses being ripped to shreds. Nesta crossed her legs and exhaled slowly. It seemed her patience was being tried tonight. She shut the book and pressed her fingers against her temples, willing the ache that had started there to subside.

The ache traveled from her head, down her spine, pooling in her stomach. She ignored the gentle tug that told her to go upstairs, to join Cassian in the shower. Instead, she closed her book and breathed slowly, willing the amorous feelings to subside. She was in control. She didn’t have to listen to that gods forsaken _thing_.

As her feelings steadied, a strong wind whirled outside the house, and the lights flickered on and off. Nesta held her breath, waiting for the flickering to end, when the house was plunged into complete darkness.

“Shit!” she heard Cassian mumble upstairs. Nesta sat, frozen on the couch, as the flames of the furnace disappeared, leaving only a scattering of quickly cooling embers.

Cassian bounded down the stairs, wearing only a loose pair of pants, grumbling with annoyance as he pulled out a pack of matches and lit a long candle by the doorway. In the flickering glow of the candle, Nesta could see his long, wet hair dripping onto his bare shoulders and down his chest, and she shivered.

He must have heard it because his eyes flashed to her with concern. He tossed her a thick blanket from the other end of the couch, and she stared at the woolen fabric.

“Heat’s gonna be gone within an hour. You’re going to want that.”

He pulled a sweater over his head, punctuating his sentence – someone like Cassian ran extremely warm all the time, so if he was wearing a thick sweater it was bound to get cold fast, but Nesta felt like being stubborn. She refused to wrap the blanket around her shoulders, keeping it next to her. How dare he presume to know what she needed?

Cassian sighed as he lit another candle. And another, ignoring her until the room was consumed with the soft yellow of low flames. Nesta hated that she could sense his frustration as he made his way into the kitchen. It was tugging at her, like usual. Only stronger. Incessant and annoying, chafing at her until she threatened to explode.

“What?” she snapped.

Cassian opened the refrigerator and began pulling things out. “What’s what, sweetheart?” His voice was low and calm, but the feeling in her stomach was anything but. She knew he was pissed. If only he would say _why_.

Wind howled outside, sending a chill through the cabin. Nesta shivered again, and Cassian growled softly. “Put on the damn blanket, Nes.”

Ah. The source of his annoyance. Worry. Nesta hated it.

She didn’t want to, but he was right about the heat. It was quickly disappearing from the cabin, and she had very little meat on her bones to keep her warm. And at this point, she’d do most anything to have that annoying tug disappear. She reluctantly unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around her slight shoulders. She inhaled deeply, the smell of Cassian surrounding her tenfold. Smoke and cedar and burnt sugar. The tug in her stomach subsided, turning to a warm cocoon of relief.

Cassian dropped a tray in front of her, covered with bread, butter, cheese, sliced vegetables and a large bottle of liquor.

Cassian picked up the bottle, took a long swig and placed it back on the table. “Nature’s blanket.”

Nesta blinked and stared at the bottle. It was one she was intimately familiar with. One that had led to many poor decisions and fae males climbing into her bed for a quick release. Cassian’s nose flared as she leaned toward him, the memory of her arousal on the tip of her tongue.

“Think you can get me drunk enough to sleep with you? You could be the next on a very long list,” she cooed and watched Cassian’s face contort into one of fury. He refused to reply to her, his eyes going cold, shutting down.

He took a large step away from her and sat on the furthest chair from her, letting Nesta have the couch to herself. She smiled too sweetly in his direction, and she could hear him suppress another growl from his chest.

He ripped a piece of bread from the loaf and slathered it with butter and put a piece of cheese on top before taking a large, angry bite.

“Eat,” he said, and though his words were a harsh command, his tone was a gentle suggestion.

He pushed the bread towards her, but she went for the liquor instead. She knocked a large sip back, and she delighted in the way it burned down her throat and settled warmly in her stomach.

“If this storm holds you might be stuck here for a few nights,” Cassian said quietly, and Nesta stared at him, mid-bite.

“No,” she replied. She struggled to keep her voice calm.

“I cleaned up the glass, but the hole in the roof is going to be more than a day’s work.” He ran his hand through his long strands, and Nesta cringed away, not wanting to see the protectiveness in his gaze. “I secured a tarp, so it shouldn’t get worse, but…”

“But what?” Nesta glared. “Do you want a thank you? Thank you.”

She could feel Cassian’s ire rising in him, filling him with each of her rolled eyes and shrugs and snappy replies. He was almost reaching a breaking point with her. She was familiar with breaking. 

“But,” he began calmly. “I just want you to be prepared for the possibility that you might be here for a bit.”

A cold rage burned through Nesta at the idea of being trapped in this cabin. She could not stay here, in Cassian’s space, indefinitely. It was not an option. Unable to look at him, she brought her eyes to the ceiling to avoid his expression. As if spurred by her gaze, the flames on the candles surrounding them burned taller, the flames widening and towering until they practically licked the ceiling. The orange tips were consumed by the blue-grey center, becoming impossibly hot.

“Nesta!” a voice shouted, but it seemed far away. All she could hear was the crackling of fire. Flames swirling around her in a vortex of blue-grey heat.

Cassian touched her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. She hated the concern she saw there. Worry rolled off him in waves, tugging at her. As she exhaled nervously, the flames died down, returning to their former yellow-orange.

“Well, that was one way to keep the heat going,” Cassian chuckled, still kneeling between her legs. His laughter was relaxed but fear still lurked in his penetrating gaze. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, his thumbs swiping gently across her cheek.

Nesta stiffened and removed his hand. “Yes.” 

Cassian cleared his throat and pushed himself up to standing. He hovered over Nesta for a beat, his eyes darting around the room, deciding where to sit. He ultimately decided to stick with his original seat, the one furthest from her.

Nesta wrapped the blanket around her shoulders tighter, a sudden chill passing through her at the lack of Cassian’s body and the receding flames.

“Warm enough?” he asked, and Nesta nodded sharply.

Cassian sighed and propped his feet up on the low ottoman in front of him. “We’re still not going to talk about it, huh?”

And Nesta shook her head again. Her powers were becoming more uncontrollable, especially in his presence. It terrified them both. She could feel it, their bond tightening and pulling frantically every time her powers flared. But, fear she could handle. Obligatory love she could not.

Cassian stood suddenly. “Maybe tomorrow, then.”

His nerves were fraying just as much as hers. She knew he would do anything to protect her, but as long as she rejected him, there was only so long he could stand to be with her. Usually Nesta was the one to flee the premises, but not tonight, it seemed.

He walked up the stairs, leaving her alone without another word. Nesta took another long sip of the whiskey and let it burn.


End file.
